


Breathe

by kokarona



Series: The Swallowtail Series [1]
Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Body Image, Confusion, Cultural Differences, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Roles, Gynandromorphy, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Institutional sexism, Intersex Character, POV Second Person, Slurs, Transphobia, Trigger Warnings, Unrequited Love, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7163003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokarona/pseuds/kokarona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because you've retired as a ninja doesn't mean you've stopped hiding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:  
> I'm assuming readers have a basic knowledge of transgender and intersex terms. Otherwise they may be confused. They may be confused anyway, because a lot of the characters themselves are confused about LGBTIA things. It should be clear which characters are reliable and which are prejudiced, but I don't have a beta-reader, so I can't be sure. 
> 
> The characters may be OOC depending on your interpretation of them. For instance, some people claim that Orochimaru is a cisgendered male with feminine features. That's a valid interpretation, but it's not the one I'm using for this story. Also, when there are blanks in canon (Shino's mother, Mitsuki's integration into Konoha), I took the liberty of making up answers. 
> 
> Trigger warnings: There IS transphobia and homophobia. There is NOT any graphic violence or explicit sexual references.
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated. I welcome any feedback on terms I may have misused or misrepresented.

_Breathe_

_Breathe, Shino. It's just a field trip._

            It's a warm, sunny morning. The scent of lilies wafts through the air, and the cicadas hum calmly. The children all have their hiking boots on and their backpacks packed. Even Boruto the eternal prankster is waiting patiently at the classroom door, whispering excitedly with Shikadai and Mitsuki. So far the day has been perfect.

            And yet you can't breathe. Whenever you inhale, the air doesn't quite fill your lungs. Your flak jacket wraps tightly around your chest, constricting your ribs. Your hive buzzes quietly.

            Mitsuki notices your expression and stops talking. His body tenses. The boy's been in Konoha for six months now, and he's still wary of all the teachers. You try not to take it personally. The "Family History" section of Mitsuki's admittance form was blank, which means he's either the son of criminals or a noble's illegitimate heir. Neither option implies a healthy childhood.

            You give Mitsuki an "it's all right" gesture. When you address the class, your voice sounds much more confident than you feel. "Is everyone ready to go to the forest?"

            All twenty-eight faces light up. "Yeeaaahhh!"

            "All right. Everyone line up behind me. We'll be walking single file to the Konoha Gate. When we get to the checkpoint, show the guards your badge. If anyone loses their badge or leaves the line…" You send a subtle nod to Boruto. "I will have to take the whole class back and finish the lesson indoors. Understood?"

            "Yes, sensei," the children chant. Sarada clutches her badge with both hands. It has a laminated name tag, a miniature map, and a small kikaichu hidden in between. If a child does run off, the bug will allow you to track them down. The class is only going two miles beyond the walls for a lesson on wildlife, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Especially since you're planning a special lesson today.

            "Follow me." You lead them through the dusty streets. Villagers point at the ten-year-olds and smile. Shikadai and Boruto almost stray to the ice cream stand, but a stern word from Inojin keeps them in line. Chouchou waves to the villagers as if she's on parade.

            No one notices you. When you were a child, the villagers shied away from your Aburame robes. The men wrinkled their noses at you, while the women wore wide, uneasy smiles. Now everyone's gaze slips over you like water over a rock. You’re an Academy teacher: Safe. Boring. Beneath suspicion.

#

            The class reaches the village gate without incident. The checkpoint looks virtually the same as it did twenty years ago: a wooden stall with a counter, two seats, and a corkboard of WANTED photos. The only difference is that the two guards take down names on their laptops instead of clipboards.

            "Stay here, class." You walk up to the stall and are surprised to find Kiba and Tamaki behind the counter. Kiba's jacket is draped on the back of his chair, leaving only a mesh shirt to cover himself. Coarse chest hair pokes up through his collar, the same color as his beard. He's wearing the good luck charm you got him for his birthday: a bear claw pendant dyed onyx black.

            Tamaki hugs his thick bicep. Her orange kimono has a modest neckline, but she ruins the effect by pressing her breasts into Kiba's arm. The woman has a chest to rival Tsunade's. You suspect it is the reason Kiba endures her litter box smell.

            Kiba gives you a toothy grin and says, "Hey Shino! What's up?"

            You reach down to scratch Akamaru behind the ears. The dog wags his tail. "I'm taking the class out for some wildlife identification exercises."

            "I remember when we did that with Iruka!" Kiba snickers. "Make sure Boruto stays away from the juniper trees."

            A wave of nostalgia hits you. When Iruka had taken his class on this field trip, Naruto had found a tree full of wrinkled berries. He'd passed the "blueberries" out to his classmates, bragging about how he was the best forager in the class. You and Kiba were smart enough not to eat Naruto's gift. You two were the only ones spared the plague of stomach cramps that hit the class an hour later.

            You hand Kiba the class list. "Boruto is much smarter than his father was at this age."

            Tamaki's giggle sounds like nails on a chalkboard. "Are you sure about that?" She points behind you. Boruto has left the line and is climbing a nearby tree. Sarada and Inojin hiss warnings to him while the other students giggle.

            You raise your voice. "The class is very excited about this trip, Kiba. I need this process to go smoothly. It would be a pity if I was forced to cancel it."

            Boruto flinches. Mitsuki stretches his arms out and carries him back into the line. The children stiffen into military postures, trying to pretend nothing happened.

            Tamaki puts a hand over her mouth. "You've trained them well. Whenever I babysit my nephews, I have to say something at least three times before they listen."

            "It's because he's got such a deep, manly voice," says Kiba. "Kids respect that sort of thing."

            A flush creeps up your neck. You hate your voice. It sounds so much lower than the one in your head. Your words always rasp together, as if a cicada is stuck in your throat. But in a strange way, Kiba's compliment pleases you.

            Akamaru snickers into his paw. Even though your high collar hides your color, the dog can smell your embarrassment. He always knows too much.

            "Akamaru, would you mind checking the children's badges for me?" you ask.

            The dog hauls himself off the ground and lumbers over to the kids. The children break the line to crowd around Akamaru, scratching every inch of his fur. Akamaru sniffs their badges.

            Kiba laughs. "Always the popular one, isn't he?"

            "Shouldn't you be marking the spreadsheet?" Tamaki scolds him. If nothing else, the woman is good at keeping Kiba on task.

            "Oh. Yeah."

            Kiba glances at the list. He types the names into the keyboard one letter at a time. Your generation didn't grow up with computers, so many of your peers type with their index fingers. Even Sakura the genius medic has to look at the keys while she types.

            Kiba gives a nervous laugh. "Sorry, I'm slow at this tech stuff."

            "Here Pookie, let me." Tamaki lets go of his arm and grabs the keyboard.

            "No, I can do it!"

            The two bicker over who can type faster. Your attention wanders to a grainy photo on the corkboard. An elegant figure strolls out of a building wearing a white yukata. Their hair is tied in a bun like yours. Their eye shadow and lipstick are the same bright violet, but rather than looking tacky, the color seems bold, almost fashionable.

            That is, until you read the name above the photo: Orochimaru. Your hive buzzes. You'd forgotten she was out.

            "It's been six months since Orochimaru escaped house-arrest and they still can't find him. Can you believe it?" Tamaki shakes her head. "He doesn't even bother to avoid security cameras."

            "I think he gets photographed on purpose." Kiba waggles his eyebrows at you. "Wants to show off his sexy new figure."

            "Oh gross!" Tamaki giggles into her hands.

            Your fists clench at your sides. Orochimaru was the terror of your generation: the nightmare who destroyed Konoha, assassinated two Kages, and cheated Death itself. She was a sannin, a scientist, and a sage all in one. She's still all of those things even though she changed sexes. _Why aren't they taking her escape seriously?_

            "How could Orochimaru do that to himself?" asks Tamaki.

            "The guy's been hopping bodies all his life," says Kiba. "Building himself some boobs is probably a no-brainer."

            "Are we sure he has real breasts though? His yukata could just be bunching up funny."

            "He's still dressed like a woman."

            "True. I think all that body-swapping's scrambled his brain," Tamaki giggles.

            Four thousand human experiments and the _lipstick_ is what convinces Tamaki that Orochimaru is crazy? You don't understand her thought process. You really don't.

            You turn around to make sure the kids are all right. Most of the kids are focused on Akamaru, but a few wear confused expressions as they pet the dog. Mitsuki stares openly at the stall, his eyes large with dread.

            You shouldn't have let these two talk so loud. "Kiba-"

            "Either that," your friend whispers, "or he's trying to recruit another Sasuke."

            "Eep! Pookie, you're so bad!"

            "Kiba-"

            "Just saying, if I was trying to kidnap preteen boys, a big set of knockers would go a long way…"

            "Kiba!"

            Half of the class turns your direction. It's rare for you to raise your voice, especially around them. Kiba grimaces. "Shit! I mean shoot. I forgot about the kids. Sorry Shino."

            You sigh. "Is the sheet done yet?"

            Tamaki waves her hands. "Yes, yes. You can go on ahead. Kiba and I can take care of the rest."

            Kiba raises his voice so the kids can hear. "Don't worry, Shino. Orochimaru wouldn't dare come this close to Konoha. The only predators your kids have to worry about are bears and wolves."

            Sarada and Inojin flinch. Kiba coughs. "But those hardly come out during the day. If you do run into something scary, holler and I'll come rescue you," he says with a wink.

            You don't have the energy to be amused. Instead you nod your goodbyes and return to the front of the class. The children are whispering amongst themselves: "What were the grownups saying about bears?"

            "Nothing. They were talking about Orochimaru. The body-swapper from history class."

            "So he swapped bodies with a bear?"

            "No, he's a girl now."

            You give the class a sharp look, cutting off all conversation. You hold their gaze until they are silent and still. When you walk through the gate, the children follow you without a word.

#

            The class does an excellent job of navigating the forest trail. They climb the hill single-file, keeping an eye out for poison ivy. They send each other hand signals to get around the "no talking" rule. None of the kids are falling behind, so you allow them this small disobedience.

            You had planted a few rare plants and butterflies along the trail to show the class, but now those extra lessons seem like too much work. As you pass by a maple tree, you release a peacock butterfly from your orders to stay nearby. He flutters away from his resting place. The children are too busy signing each other to notice him.

            All except Mitsuki, that is. He glances towards the butterfly, then returns to watching you. His eyes roll over your broad shoulders, down your too-wide hips to the coat hem brushing against your ankles. You shouldn't have worn this jacket – it looks far too much like a dress.

            You want to take Mitsuki aside and ask how much he knows. You want to explain to him that he doesn't have to worry: you're not like Orochimaru. You like men, not little boys. You'd cut off your own hand before you hurt any of your children. You're safe. Really.

            But that confession could easily backfire. Mitsuki might tell the other children. The children would tell their parents, who'd tell the Hokage, and soon the whole village would be saying, "Did you hear about the Academy teacher who got fired? I can't believe we let that freak near our kids…"

            You can't risk that, so you keep your mouth shut.

            The class reaches the clearing in good time. This place is ideal for studying wildlife. There's a pond with lily pads and mosquitos, a log with medicinal lichen, a grove of edible berries, and enough beetle species to fill a book. "Does everyone have their worksheets?"

            "Yes Sensei," the class chants. The children rummage through their backpacks and take out their clipboards and pencils. They have three worksheets: one for medicinal plants, one for poisonous plants, and one for bugs. The last worksheet isn't in the official curriculum, but as an Aburame, you can't take a class into the forest and _not_ teach them about insects.

            "Everything on your worksheets should be in this clearing, so stay where I can see you. You may work in groups if you like. Extra credit goes to whoever finishes their worksheets first."

            The children jostle together and shout each other's names. Boruto grabs Inojin and hauls him out of the crowd. The two boys sprint towards the pond. Mitsuki follows them, unsure if he's in Boruto's group or not. The other boys pair off in groups of two and three to search for beetles.

            Sarada has found the loophole in your instructions and recruited ten girls. She tries to assign a few plant species to each girl, hoping to use teamwork to fill the worksheets quickly. However, her classmates are more interested in smelling flowers than getting extra credit. Sarada sulks by a tree until Chouchou hands her some wild raspberries.

            Shikadai has already managed to fall asleep by the lichen-log. As amusing as it is to watch Shikadai mimic his father, he does need to complete the assignment. You send a dragonfly to gently wake him up. It lands on his nose. He sneezes. You entertain yourself for the next few minutes having the bug flying around the boy's head, dodging his groggy swipes.

            "Sensei! We need your help!" Sarada yells. You turn and find that while you were trying to wake Shikadai, the rest of the class had gathered around a myrtle tree.

            You rush over, cursing yourself for not paying attention. "What's wrong?"

            "We found something that's not on the sheet!" Inojin points to a tiger swallowtail feeding from a blossom six feet up. Her wings are crisp and her body is plump. She'd be unremarkable if not for her strange coloration: her left wing is a blend of blue and black, while her right wing is yellow with black stripes.

            "Have you seen a butterfly like this before, Sensei?" asks Boruto.

            You have. In fact, you were the one who put her on this tree.

            You and your father found her on a recent bug-hunting expedition, barely out of her cocoon. She was a once-in-a-lifetime specimen. Your father put her in the clan's central garden, reserved for the rarest of insects. He visits the garden once a day, making sure all the residents are safe and well fed.

            You snuck the swallowtail out of the garden this morning. A dozen kikaichu guarded her from birds while you led the class to the clearing. You had planned to point her out as part of a special lesson on gender, but changed your mind after the kids heard about Orochimaru. A lecture now would do more harm than good.

            "She's a tiger swallowtail," you answer in a monotone voice.

            "Really?" Sarada flips through her wilderness handbook. She shows you a picture of a tiger swallowtail. "But the book says they're all yellow."

            "The males look like that. The females–" You pause, realizing you've talked yourself into a dead end. "-the females are blue."

            Sarada looks back and forth between the butterfly and the book. "But it's both."

            "She's still a swallowtail."

            "But why's she both?" asks Chouchou.

            Your breath bottles up inside you. "Gynandromorphy," you spit out. "It's a genetic mutation which causes bilateral asymmetry. Her chromosomes split unevenly during her conception, which caused her wings to develop separate protein structures."

            The children's eyes glaze over. It's painful as a teacher to shut down their curiosity like this, but you don't know how else to escape the conversation. "Just mark her down on your worksheet," you plead.

            Someone taps your arm. Your body flinches instinctively – people don't touch you unless they have to. When you turn, you're shocked to find Mitsuki standing behind you. He's never gotten this close to an adult before. "Can you call her down, Sensei? I want to see her up close."

            It takes you a second to speak. "Why?"

            His eyes grow shifty. "I just…want to." He sees your strained expression and withdraws his hand. "Never mind."

            The other kids cry out, "Please Sensei? Pleeeease?"

            Shikadai walks over from his nap. Inojin whispers an explanation in his ear. Shikadai takes a phone out of his pocket – a phone he was not supposed to bring on this fieldtrip– and photographs the butterfly. The kids gather around Shikadai's phone.

            You let out a long sigh. It's too late to stop the lesson now – if you don't answer your students' questions here, they'll look the answers up on the internet. At least if you lead the lesson, you can give them somewhat accurate information. "Very well. But you must not touch her, understand? Eyes only." The children nod.

            You walk to the tree and hold your hand by the butterfly's flower. _Come here please,_ you ask her. The swallowtail crawls to another flower. You send some chakra from your fingers to entice her. _It's safe. I won't let them hurt you._

            The butterfly crawls across your knuckles. You kneel down and hold the butterfly out. The children crowd around her. Mitsuki holds his face mere inches away, staring at the butterfly's wings as if they held the secret to life.

            "She's pretty," Chouchou murmurs. The other kids nod. The swallowtail lets her wings fall open. She can't tell what the kids are saying, but she can sense your mood calming down.

            Boruto points to the swallowtail's yellow wing. "Is this part a genjutsu? A disguise against predators or something?"

            Shikadai scoffs. "Animals can't cast jutsu, stupid."

            "Uncle Kiba's dog can!" Boruto argued.

            "Wild animals, I mean."

            "It's not a genjutsu," you answer. "Or a disguise, or a trick. She was born like this."

            Shikadai squints. "I thought butterflies were born as caterpillars."

            "She would have had unusual markings as a caterpillar too," you answer. "Do you all remember our lesson on DNA in the fall? How genes determine things like appearance and personality and…gender?" The class nods.

            You take a deep breath. "Most butterflies have the same DNA in both wings, which causes their wings to match. However, this butterfly has two types of DNA." You point to the blue wing. "This half of her body is coded to show female markings." You point to the yellow wing. "And this half has DNA for male markings."

            The children fall silent. Sarada cocks her head. "So…is it half male, half female?"

            "She considers herself female in spite of her yellow wing."

            Shikadai frowns. "Are you sure?"

            Your mouth twitches into a smile. "Very."

#

            Unlike your friends and colleagues, you were not born in Konoha Hospital. You were born in your mother's bedroom, surrounded by quilts and medical incense. Your mother's hive pushed you out of the womb into the midwife's waiting hands. The midwife cut your umbilical cord, washed you clean, and took you into the living room, where the clan elders waited to implant your hive.

            Your father asked the midwife the usual questions: Were you healthy? How much did you weigh? Would you be getting a hive of kikaichu or rinkaichu?

            He did not ask about your gender. There was no point. Even if someone had checked between your legs, your body was naturally ambiguous. It became even more so once the elders implanted a hive. Male and female bugs flooded your infant body with their respective hormones, setting your development between the poles of male and female. Your body wouldn't settle one way or the other until puberty began, and your own hormones tipped the scales.

            Before the Aburame clan joined Konoha, they had put little importance on gender. They'd spend the first decade of their lives as androgynous, so gender didn't become relevant until puberty. After adolescence, only 1 out of 10 Aburame would become women.There weren't enough females to do all the cleaning and childcare, so chores were assigned by personality instead. Women were simply people capable of childbirth. Nothing more, nothing less.

            Konoha's culture came as a shock when the Aburames joined the village. Children having a gender at birth was surprising – the fact that one gender submitted to the other was frightening. The villagers had strict opinions of what women could and could not be, and the second list was much longer than the first.

            And so, whenever the Aburame women left the compound, they wore the same formless coats as their male relatives. They avoided bathhouses and hospitals. They refused the once-in-a-generation woman who wished to form a marital alliance. With their deep voices and tall statures, few people questioned that they were male. Anyone smart enough to suspect them was also wise enough not to press the issue.

            Hiding wasn't completely without consequence, however. Your mother was known in public as the jonin Akio, whose tracking abilities were always in demand. She had spent most of her pregnancy on the field, only taking the last two months off for 'vacation'. Mere weeks after you were born, the Hokage assigned her to an emergency A-rank mission. In spite of her exhaustion, your mother took the job. She didn't come back.

            Your mother wasn't on your mind much growing up. Her death was sad, but it wasn't relevant to your life. You were going to be a boy – if not in body then in name.

            It's true, you often wished you could skip Blacksmithing class and join the girls in Flower-Arranging. You preferred reading to rough housing, and you found cooking to be relaxing. But none of your classmates cared who you were or what you liked. You were a shadow to them. There was no point in pursuing your feminine side if you had no one to share it with.

            That decision became harder to follow when you joined Team 8. You didn't expect Kiba and Hinata to be so friendly. For the first time since Torune left, you had kids your age to talk to and train with. People who cared about you, who wanted to know you better. For the first time in your life, sleepovers and shopping trips were options.

            Options you didn't take. It was too risky. It had taken weeks for Kiba and Kurenai to get used to your bugs. If symbiosis had unnerved them, they would be incapable of understanding Aburame gender. Even if Hinata accepted you, she could easily be bullied into telling her father. If your condition went public, your whole clan would be put at risk.

            Fortunately, you had a stoic, 'manly' personality, so you didn't need to do much acting. Your sensitivity was chalked up to teenage moodiness, and your patience with children was described as leadership potential. Any feminine thoughts or desires were pushed deep out of sight. So deep, in fact, that when you had your first period, your father asked a nurse to inspect you for internal bleeding. Everyone in your clan was shocked that you turned out to be a woman.

            You pretended that nothing had changed. But as your chest grew and your hips widened, your body became a constant reminder that you weren't the man your friends wanted you to be. You weren't the woman you wanted to be either. Your body wasn't graceful like Kurenai's or soft like Hinata's. It felt bulky. Disjointed. Wrong.

            So you smothered it with jackets, leaving only your nose and hands exposed. You were terrified that one wrong bend or stretch would expose you. At the same time, you longed for someone to see past the cloth – to see the real you.

            When they didn't, you got mad. Every 'he' and 'him' sent a shot of irritation through you. The shots weren't much on their own, but day after day, year after year, they built up into a toxin, an anger that put your hive in a constant buzz.

            You didn't realize how much hiding bothered you until the war. Specifically, when you fell under the Infinite Tsukuyomi. You dreamed of a simple life where no one feared your clan. Friends remembered your name. Strangers complimented your kimono. Everyone looked you in the eye when they spoke with you.

            It was a boring, unambitious dream, but you were happier than you'd been in years. When you woke up on the battlefield, you were smiling like a child. The dream stayed with you for months; an oasis in your mind when you went to sleep.

            You began changing your appearance to match the dream. You grew out your hair, trimmed your eyebrows, shaved your legs. With all of your coats, few people noticed the changes. But you noticed. You felt like you finally had control over your own body.

            You also started wearing kimonos to your clan functions. No outsiders were allowed within the inner sanctum, so Aburame women could wear what they wanted without judgment. The older women used clan meetings as an excuse to dress up. Your grandmother called butterflies to perch in her braided hair. Others wore bright eye shadow and nail polish. Like Hinata, you preferred modest outfits, so a white kimono was enough for you.

            By age 30, you realized you were living a double-life, just like your mother. You were in no danger of copying her death: you worked at a civilian job and had no husband to impregnate you. But it concerned you how, despite your best efforts, you had followed her footsteps.

            So much had changed since you were born. A woman had become Hokage. A jinchuuriki had become Hokage. There were computers and trains and flying machines and _peace_. People were so much more understanding these days that you couldn't help but wonder: would there ever come a day you could live as yourself?

#

            Inojin raises his hand. "Sensei, do any other species have gyan- gynan-?"

            "Gynandromorphy." The swallowtail crawls onto your wrist. "And yes, this occurs in many species. Arachnids. Crustaceans. Even birds."

            "Birds!" The class shouts. This excites them even more than the butterfly.

            "Wait, wait!" Chouchou pushes Inojin to the side. "That's only songbirds, right? Not chickens or turkeys or anything we eat?"

            "Actually, it's quite common in chickens. Every thousand birds or so, you'll see a chicken split right down the middle, white on one side and brown on the other."

`           The children talk over each other. "Sounds like an ugly chicken."

            "Would it lay eggs?"

            "What about blue jays, Sensei?"

            Chouchou and Mitsuki both watch the swallowtail with serious expressions. The butterfly sits on your wrist. Its blue wing is in the light, but the yellow wing is still in your shadow.

            Mitsuki looks up. His face is blank enough that you don't see his question coming: "What about humans?"

            The class grows quiet.

            Mitsuki's golden eyes flare inside his mannequin-like expression. For a moment, you contemplate lying. But you've already come this far, and Mitsuki wouldn't ask if he hadn't already figured it out.

            You take a deep breath. "Sometimes."

            Mitsuki's pupils double in size. You can't tell if he's surprised or disturbed.

            Inojin frowns. "How would that work? Would they be divided along the spine?"

            "No, probably at the waist."

            "Wouldn't their organs get mixed up?"

            Boruto lets out a loud snort. His classmates stop talking and turn his way.

            "Boruto," you say in your sternest 'stop interrupting the class' tone, "do you need some water?"

            Unfortunately, Boruto is too busy laughing to be intimidated. "Sorry, Sensei. I just realized – you're talking about she-males, aren't you?" He snickers into his elbow. "Is…is this a he-she butterfly?"

            Your lungs stop working. Your jacket feels like it's coiling around your body, tighter and tighter, outlining your shape for all to see. Only the bugs skittering under your muscles keep your frame from collapsing.

            Chouchou frowns at Boruto. "What are she-males?"

            "You know! Guys who dress like girls!" he says. "There's a whole bunch of them who live by the bridge."

            "Dad calls them trannies," Shikadai yawns. "They use genjutsu to give themselves boobs and trick guys into kissing them."

            Sarada smacks her fist into her palm. "Like Orochimaru!" she gasps.

            Mitsuki flinches. The other children leap away, as if the butterfly was suddenly diseased.

            "Oh gross!"

            "Sensei, is that thing really safe to touch?"

            The swallowtail senses your chakra spike. It leaps off your arm. The children duck and squeal. It flutters frantically past the tree and into the woods.

            Inojin pats his hair. "It didn't touch me, did it?"

            "Why'd it fly away like that?" Sarada frowned.

            "Cause you all hurt her feelings!" Chouchou scolded.

            Boruto rolls his eyes. "Bugs don't have feelings."

            You want to hit this child. You want to slap him across the face and watch the impact stain his cheek pink. You want those puffy lips to snap shut and stay shut for the rest of the day.

            The last time you were this angry at someone, you killed them. But that was an enemy ninja – Boruto is a child. Hinata's son. The Hokage's heir. One of your precious students.

            You stick your fists in your pockets. You're not the kind of person who hits children. You are patient. You are gentle. Yet the anger sits in your stomach, sharp and undeniable.

            You force out a response between your teeth. "Class. We've wasted enough time. You should get back to work."

            The crowd bleeds apart. Boruto whispers something to Shikadai, who laughs. A few girls take hand sanitizer from their backpacks and wash their hands. You are about to retreat to the oak tree when Chouchou tugs your sleeve. She looks concerned. "What will happen to the butterfly?"

            "She'll be fine," you tell her. You are too tired to chase after her yourself. You'll have your kikaichu catch her before the class leaves.

            Inojin stares into the forest. "Shouldn't somebody help Mitsuki?"

            "Mitsuki?" You look over the heads of the class. There is a definite lack of blue in the group. You turn to the forest. "Where is he?!"

            "He chased after the butterfly when she left," says Sarada "He ran right past you."

            You didn't notice. You're a jonin-level shinobi and you didn't notice.

            Sarada frowns. "Sensei, are you okay? You're really pale."

            "I'm fine. I'll go get Mitsuki. Sarada, you're in charge of the class. Don't let anyone else leave the clearing."

            Sarada stands tall and nods. "Yes sir!"

           You run into the undergrowth. Today is getting worse by the minute. Boruto teaching slurs to the class was bad enough – now you've got a runaway. And it's Mitsuki of all people.

#

            You find Mitsuki a hundred yards from the clearing, sitting at the foot of an oak tree. The kikaichu in his nametag let you find him in three minutes. The boy's hands are cupped around something yellow. Your stomach sinks. You hope the swallowtail isn't dead.

            You step on a stick to alert Mitsuki to your presence. His head shoots up. His voice comes out hoarse. "Sensei."

            You gesture to the butterfly in his hands. "May I see?"

            Mitsuki nods. You crouch in front of him. He opens his hands.

            The swallowtail is safe. You breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

            Mitsuki nods again but doesn't say anything. You hold out your hand. The butterfly walks onto your palm. The two of you are unable to look at each other, so you watch her instead.

            "Mitsuki…about the lesson just now…"

            "Why haven't you told them yet?" he mutters.

            You sigh. If only it was that simple. "Because the truth would frighten them."

            "They'll figure it out soon enough."

            A drop of sweat rolls down your neck. "Not necessarily. The other children aren't as…perceptive as you are."

            Mitsuki hugs his knees to his chest. "It doesn't matter. Once ANBU catches Orochimaru, everybody will know."

            You blink. How would Orochimaru's capture unveil your gender? Last you checked, the sannin didn't know anything about the Aburames' secret. "I don't follow your reasoning."

            "Orochimaru said she cloned me. Aunt Karin gave birth to me, but all my DNA is hers."

            Your body half sits, half falls into the grass. Mitsuki is…Orochimaru's kid? True, he shared the sannin's pale skin and golden eyes, but his hair was blue! Did that trait come from one of Orochimaru's host bodies? "How-"

            "I saw on TV that ANBU does DNA testing on every criminal they capture. And the Hokage had me give a DNA sample before he let me join your class." Mitsuki shrinks into himself. "They'll match the samples easily."

            You grit your teeth. How could Naruto put Orochimaru's child in your class and not tell you?! Was he worried you'd call a gossip magazine or something? "That doesn't mean the ANBU agents would tell anyone. Your genetic information should only be available to the Hokage and the head medic."

            "But you knew about it," Mitsuki murmurs.

            You truly didn't. Mitsuki didn't know your secret either. It seems the two of you were overestimating each other.

            You change the subject. "Who else knows about your mother?"

            "Lady Tsunade. She took the DNA sample and gave me a physical exam." Mitsuki frowns. "Except Tsunade said Orochimaru was my dad because she was originally a guy."

            "What does Orochimaru call herself?"

            "My parent." Mitsuki watches the butterfly crawl up your arm. "Which sounds like she's a girl and a boy, but her body's all girl as far as I can tell."

            You look down at the swallowtail, half yellow and half blue. You understand now why Mitsuki was so fascinated by her. "I wasn't talking about your parent when I said there were human gynandromorphs."

            "Oh."

            "Your parent's more like a typical butterfly." You point to a caterpillar crawling on a nearby leaf. "Beginning as male." You shift your finger to a monarch butterfly perched on some milkweed. "Ending as female."

            Mitsuki watches the monarch as he process this information. "So…Orochimaru's not one of those she-male people?"

            The slur makes you flinch. "No. She's simply a woman who used to look like a man." There's another long silence. You can't believe you're defending a criminal's reputation to her own child.

            Mitsuki hugs his knees tighter. "So when do I turn into a girl?"

            Your heartbeat quickens. Is Mitsuki transgender like his parent? You hadn't noticed any signs. Then again, nobody noticed you were a girl either. "Do you…feel like a girl? Inside?"

            "No," he says miserably. He points to the swallowtail's blue wing. "But I'm Orochimaru's clone, and you said gender is genetic."

            "Yes, but you still would have inherited XY chromosomes from her."

            "But I'd have gotten the metamorphosis thing too, right?"

            You shake your head hard. "No! That was a metaphor. Only Aburames can change gender without surgery. You can't-"

            The words stop. Did you say that out loud? You definitely said that out loud. A cold panic washes over you.

            "Only Aburames?" Mitsuki's eyes trace over your smooth jawline and your long, glossy hair. His mouth purses into a small, "Oh." There's no fear in his voice – only surprise: "You're a swallowtail."

            You nod.

            "And Orochimaru's a monarch?"

            You nod again.

            Mitsuki eyes the caterpillar eating its leaf. "And I'm the caterpillar."

            "No!" you finally speak. "You are a boy."

            "But my genetics-"

            "Are more complicated than an on and off switch. You might have the same DNA as Orochimaru, but you aren't living her life. You were born in a different environment. Raised by different people. That changes what genes are activated, what kind of personality you develop–"

            You're losing him. You cut your explanation short. "What I mean to say is, people are more than their bodies. If you feel like a boy, you should trust those instincts. You get the final say in the matter."

            He stares at his feet. You're still not sure if he understands. You try one last time. "Mitsuki, you are not your mother."

            The boy's shoulders relax. He looks up and smiles. "No. You aren't either."

            You blink. "Pardon?"

            Mitsuki fiddles with his pant leg. "Ever since I joined the Academy, you made me…nervous. You acted nice, but you reminded me a lot of Orochimaru. You looked like her and talked like her. I worried you were dangerous like her too."

            Your stomach sinks. So he had been afraid of you after all. "Mitsuki…I'm sorry. If you don't feel comfortable with me as your teacher, I can have you transferred-"

            "No! I'm not scared anymore. Actually, I'm glad you're a butterfly person."

            You lean back into the grass, stunned. In the past thirty years, you've imagined this moment a thousand times over. If you revealed your gender to someone, how would they react? You prepared for hitting and screaming. You hoped for curiosity or passive tolerance. But you never imagined someone would be **glad** to learn you were a woman.

            "Honestly," Mitsuki continues, "I don't think many people would understand my… _situation_ like you do."

            "Probably not," you admit. You point to the swallowtail on your sleeve. "If it makes you feel better, your classmates didn't react well to my situation either."

            Mitsuki furrows his eyebrows. "My mom's a lot scarier than you are."

            "Yes. And I am a lot more dangerous than this butterfly. But as far as the normal people are concerned, the three of us are equally terrifying."

            Mitsuki snickers into his elbow. You hadn't intended that last line to be a joke. It was an honest analysis of your circumstances. Then again, you live in a world where children scream more at the idea of a transgender butterfly than an escaped body-snatching terrorist. The whole situation is absurd.

            You chuckle under your breath. This causes Mitsuki to laugh harder. Soon the two of you are laughing at each other like complete fools. It's a completely inappropriate response to the conversation, but it feels so good that you don't care.

            Sarada's voice yells out from the clearing. "Senseeeiii! Mitsukiiiiii! Are you two okay?" You can hear the other children talking in the clearing. It's no surprise they're worried. The two of you have been gone for at least ten minutes.

            The two of you stop laughing. You whisper to Mitsuki, "Are you ready to go back?"

            Mitsuki nods. You help him stand up. The swallowtail flies up to your shoulder. You shout, "Everything's all right, Sarada. We'll be right there."

            "You sure?" Chouchou yells.

            Mitsuki smiles at you. He raises his hands to his mouth and calls out, "Yes! We're both doing just fine."

-End-

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I should clarify the tags. Orochimaru is the transgender character. I imagine that her body is maintained via hormones and surgery as opposed to genetic alteration, hence why Mitsuki inherited her XY chromosomes. Considering how often Orochimaru changes bodies, I imagine there's enough genetic variability to account for Mitsuki's blue hair and cisgender status.
> 
> Shino is the intersex character. More specifically, she's an intersex woman who is forced to stay in the closet as a man. Both have gender dysphoria, but for different reasons. One was born in the wrong body; the other was born in the right body but was forced into the wrong gender box in order to assimilate into society (a depressingly common phenomenon for intersex kids). 
> 
> Now, obviously real intersex people don't have their hormone profiles altered through symbiosis with insects. However, 'intersex' seems like a more appropriate tag than "delayed gender" or "puberty metamorphosis". 
> 
> While genetically-delayed gender expression is made-up (as far as I'm aware), gynandromorphy is a real phenomenon among animals. When it happens to swallowtail butterflies, the coloration is indeed half-yellow, half-blue. They are physically half female, half male, with their organs mish-mashing in the middle. Gynandromorphs tend to be sterile though, which is why they are so rare. 
> 
> In case it wasn't obvious, humans can't have gynandromorphy. Shino uses the word as a blanket term for nonbinary gender. However, gynandromorphy is only supposed to cover the half-and-half gender expression found in animals. When people do have both male and female genes, it's a lot more complicated than having a boob on one side and a testicle on the other. Intersex people are more biologically complex than butterflies. 
> 
> tl;dr: The butterfly is a metaphor.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


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